


Under The Table

by PharmercyFics



Series: PharMercy: Smut [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Slice of Life, yes this is part of the daily life series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 15:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PharmercyFics/pseuds/PharmercyFics
Summary: It's summer, the weather forecast predicts a light drizzle, and what better way to spend your time going to the local cafe. With a vibrator in you. Angela's a cruel mistress.





	Under The Table

Downtown. A series of office buildings, paid parking, and empty parks. A few saggy clouds hung lifeless in the sky, besmirching the blue sky. The camera slowly rolled past a series of shops before coming to a stop, focusing in.  _ The Venue _ . It was a new sign, red and white, stark in comparison to the fading blue paint. One of the many cafes in the downtown area, a cross between a coffee house and an art gallery. The owners never kept the same art, switching it out monthly for different collections of local artists. Some months you could even purchase the art, take that laminated aluminum raven statue home if you wanted. It’s downtown, no one gave a fuck. 

The dimmed lights of the cafe would have given off that secluded, homey vibe, if only it wasn’t for the fact it had been bright as  **shit** that afternoon. It was officially summer. Angela and Fareeha sat in the corner, sitting on either side of a marble table. Was it real marble? Probably not. Angela looked out the window as she brushed some hair behind her ear, dressed in her usual sweater and jeans, a little too hot in the thick wool. Fareeha was sitting proper, the sleeves rolled up on her blue button-up, clashing slightly with her black pencil skirt. 

“Alright, one black coffee with an extra shot and one latte with six extra shots. Here you go, hons.” A bubbly waitress set down each of the drinks, the cups clacking against the smooth marble. She had curled hair, as if she had rung each strand around her fingers at some point or another. Blue eyes, and a nose ring that was befitting of a downtown cafe barista. Her smile was half the reason Angela was a regular at the joint. “You need anything else, you let me know.” Angela nodded gratefully, sending her off as she took the massive latte in her hands, blowing on the foamed cream. 

“How are you feeling?” Angela glanced up from her drink, her fingers dancing on the hot ceramic mug. A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth, quickly hidden as she held to cup to her lips. 

Fareeha had been sitting, rigid, since they arrived. Even now she didn’t move to touch her drink. Her face was plastered a deep red, apparent to anyone that looked at her. She quivered slightly as she open her mouth to speak. “You’re an asshole.” Her voice wavered, taking the opportunity to swallow air through her mouth before closing it again, doing her best to look dignified. 

“I don’t know what makes you say that. I just came here to get a nice cup of coffee and see my favorite barista. Feel so attacked right now.” Angela tsked, taking a sip of coffee. She winced, quickly setting the mug down as she covered her mouth. “Hot…” Fareeha said nothing, a look of betrayal on her face as her hands trembled slightly on the table. Her knuckles were white. Angela took notice, her earlier grin disguised as a loving smile as she took Fareeha’s hand in her own. “Something wrong, sweetheart? You haven’t touched your coffee.” 

Fareeha stared back at her in utter mortification, wanting to say something but holding back. She opened her mouth slightly at Angela’s touch, letting out a quiet sound of displeasure. Angela blinked, nonchalant, before rescinding her hand.

“Open your legs.” The softness was gone, replaced by a cold, demanding tone. Fareeha was always surprised how harshly those pink lips could speak. Fareeha wanted to pretend that she didn’t hear right, but the icy blue eyes made her swallow her dignity. Sitting straight, having not moved a millimeter since she sat down, Fareeha inched apart her knees from where they had been pressed tightly together. She stopped, legs trembling, looking at Angela, breathless for some sort of respite. A quiet buzz could be heard from under the table, easily dismissed as a summer mosquito. The air was cool against her bare skin.

“B-Babe.” Fareeha pleaded, fear in her eyes. Angela watched her closely as she sipped her latte, merciless. 

“Is that my phone?” Angela lolled her head to the side, mocking curiosity as she fished her phone from her pocket. “No new messages. That’s strange.” Fareeha could almost hear the laughter under her breath. 

“Babe!” Fareeha spoke again, slightly louder this time, leaning forward with urgency. “Someone’s going to hear!” Angela froze from where she was tapping on her phone, statuesque. Her eyes switched from her screen to Fareeha, devoid of compassion. Never a good sign. She slowly set the phone on the table along with her latte, propping her elbows on the table, her fingers threading together, contemplative, to rest her chin. Fareeha didn’t dare say another word. 

“Someone’s going to hear what?” Angela raised her foot under the table, smooth and nonchalant. The toe of her shoe tapped against the end of a pink vibrator. Fareeha jolted in her seat, instinctively slapping her mouth shut. The length of the thing was embedded deeply within her soaked cunt, no longer muffled by her thighs. Angela’s shoe was cold against her naked crotch. “Is something wrong?” Angela brushed her shoe against the toy again, nudging it slightly. Fareeha gasped behind her hand, closing her eyes. Satisfied, Angela brought back her foot, crossing her legs with a grin. She let her hands drop to the table, sitting back up as she watched Fareeha.

“N-N-Nothing’s….Nothing’s wrong.” Fareeha opened her eyes halfway, struggling to keep her back straight. Her knees twitched, but she knew better than to close her legs without permission. The buzzing continued. 

“You know, sweetheart, the coffee here is really good. I don’t know why you haven’t bothered to try yours yet.” Angela shook her head as she returned to her grossly over-caffeinated latte, taking another sip. “It’s going to get cold soon.” Fareeha nodded, trying to compose herself. She coughed into her fist before scooting her chair closer to the table, attempting not to think about how potentially exposed she was. She looked around. 

A man sat at a table closer to the counter, eating what looked like stromboli and...soup? Fareeha didn’t care to look too long, simply thankful they weren’t being watched. Angela gave a smug smirk, looking at her with the typical “ _ don’t you think I know what i’m doing” _ look she gave Fareeha whenever she became paranoid. Fareeha hesitantly reached for her drink, trying to ignore the slow buildup of pleasure below her abdomen. It was getting hard to sit still, her feet shifting tensely on the wood floor. She took a sip. Angela was right, the coffee here  _ was _ good. She’d have to come back and try it in peace sometime.

“Oh, would you look at that.” Fareeha looked up from her coffee with alarm, seeing Angela staring forlornly at her empty mug. “Looks like I’m out of coffee.  _ Excuse me!”  _ Angela raised a hand, waving over at the counter. Two employees and the old man looked over. Fareeha went wide eyed, staring at the marble table, horror pumping through her veins. Her face never dropped below bright red, the embarrassment almost palpable. Yet, even if she didn’t want to admit it, Fareeha was feeling incredible. Each chance of getting caught sent shivers up her spine, each second the vibrator massaged the insides of her vagina relentlessly. She had been on the cusp of orgasm for several seconds now, only hiding her ragged breath behind the lip of a mug. 

“Yes, what can I do for you?!” The bubbly waitress bounded over, her blue eyes bright and attentive. Fareeha continued to pretend to drink her coffee, waiting for the barista to go away. Angela had the exact opposite idea, taking nearly a minute to compliment and endorse the latte she just finished. Fareeha wavered. Sooner or later Angela would stop talking and the barista would hear the buzzing. She would be caught. Sweat beaded on her forehead as the anxiety and the pleasure doubled. Unable to take it anymore, Fareeha closed her legs, muffling the vibrator as she continued nursing her drink. Angela stopped mid-sentence, glancing at Fareeha before continuing on about the perfect amount of foam they had created. Fareeha’s heart sank, already knowing Angela was thinking of ten different ways to punish her for disobedience. The barista talked back, obviously appreciating the way Angela noticed the artistic details of foamed milk. It almost seemed she was about to pull up a chair and start talking about the history of latte art. 

Suddenly, Fareeha became very apparent of an incessant pressure against her knees. Angela’s foot was trying to wedge its way between her legs. She almost set down the coffee, wondering what kind of face Angela was making. Should she spread her legs? She had already disobeyed once, and that was bad enough. Would the waitress hear? Fareeha didn’t know what to do. Her brain was fogged with pleasure. She took a breath as she slowly parted her knees. 

Fareeha jumped in her chair as Angela’s foot swung forward, planting itself on the hilt of Fareeha’s vibrator, shoving it deeper inside her in one swift motion. Fareeha sprayed the coffee in her mouth back to the mug, driven over the edge as she felt the toy drive forcefully against the sensitive spots of her vagina. Angela’s foot ground against her entrance, making sure the vibrator was close to kissing her womb as Fareeha moaned into her drink. She almost doubled-over, nearly incontinent as drool trickled from the corner of her mouth, the mug hanging loose in her hands. 

“Are you okay?!” The waitress tilted her head as she set a hand on Fareeha’s shoulder, a look of real concern on her face after watching what looked like a valued customer choking harshly on her drink. 

“P-please don’t touch me.” Fareeha held up a hand, practically begging her as she stifled another moan, even the light touch of the barista sending electricity through her nerves after the slow buildup from hours of stimulation. 

“I’ll take another latte, dear, and maybe grab her a napkin.” Angela smiled innocently at the waitress, the curly-haired woman nodding as she hurried off. Angela’s smile disappeared, replaced with a glowering menace as she turned to Fareeha. “You closed your legs. What did I tell you?”

“I-I’m sorrYAUH Hh !” Fareeha’s apology was interrupted as Angela circled the toe of her shoe against the vibrator, prodding it as it continued to vibrate against the deepest parts of her insides. Her thighs twitched around Angela’s foot, clinging with sweat and fluids. 

“I could just keep you here, orgasming again and again. Is that what you want?” Angela spoke barely above a whisper, leaning over the table as Fareeha gripped the marble surface. 

“N-no, iiIIIAUNNn nn ~” Fareeha clenched her mouth shut, unable to finish her sentence as Angela drove her shoe against the vibrator. She could already feel another climax closing in, barely able to breath as the vibrator seemed to massage all her spots at once. There was no way Angela would let her pull it back out, back to how it had been only partway in. She wanted to tilt back in her chair, cock her head back, to groan loudly as she begged Angela to grind it deeper. Her half-lidded eyes darted around the room. One Barista cleaning glasses, the other girl working on Angela’s drink. The old man. Fareeha nearly gasped as she looked at the old man, the old man seeming to stare right back at them. 

Now that she had a better look, he didn’t appear as old as she once thought. Gray-haired and wrinkled, but she would guess he was about fifty, wearing a bowling shirt and sunglasses. There was no way he couldn’t see Angela’s foot up her skirt, no matter how straight she continued to sit. Panic overtook her, and with it, pleasure. 

“A-Angela! Stop! That... fuck~ That m an !” Fareeha’s legs spasmed slightly as she jerked her head in the man’s direction, trying to plead Angela’s forgiveness. Wrong move. Any hope Fareeha had died as she looked into Angela’s eyes, sadistic and cruel, perfect alongside the smirk plastered across her lips. “Y-your foot! Pleasee ee ee…” Fareeha wasn’t sure how long she could hold out until she orgasmed again, and you could only blame a lack of ability to drink coffee oh so many times. 

“Sounds like you better not make any sounds.” Angela teased, stealing a glance at the grandpa herself. He did seem like he was watching. Angela tsked, pulling her foot back and crossing her legs. Fareeha gasped, hanging her head. Sure, she was still steadily being driven to orgasm, but at least Angela was no longer grinding the pink length inside her. 

“Aaaand here’s your latte, just how you wanted it!” Angela looked up, the curly-haired barista smiling pleasantly as she set down the steaming mug. “Are you doing okay there, hon? Need a bag?” Fareeha bit her tongue as the waitress set a hand on her shoulder, trying to suppress a moan. 

“I-I’ll be okay. But thank you.” Fareeha offered a weak smile as she did her best to look fine. The barista nodded, giving another warm smile before walking away. “She’s too kind…”

“Wait.” Angela grabbed Fareeha’s attention, pointing at the barista as she headed from their table to the old man’s. Neither said a word as she cleared his place, sharing small talk as the man rose from his seat. And grabbed a walking stick. They both watched as the man tapped the ground as he walked, slowly making his way to the door. 

Fareeha breathed a huge sigh of relief, Angela forcing a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud as the blind man closed the door behind him. 

“Oh, dear me. That’s hilarious.” 

“Do you have any idea how scared I was?! What if he wasn’t blind?! He could’ve been watching!” 

“Hush.” Angela shoved her foot up Fareeha’s skirt, planting it sternly on the vibrator where it had begun to slide out. “I didn’t say you could speak.” Angela sipped her coffee as Fareeha snapped her head back, failing to stop a small moan as she felt Angela force the thick vibrator back inside her vagina. 

Something caught Angela’s eye outside. Still sipping her coffee, Angela peered out the glass, watching as a light drizzle began to pitter against the window. “Oh, it’s raining.” Angela sighed as if something had been ruined, sitting back in her chair as she nursed her coffee. “I suppose it’s about time to head home, anyway. Need to make dinner.” 

“Yes, let’s.” Fareeha nodded quickly, shifting in her seat as Angela’s foot stayed put against her bare crotch. Her voice warbled as she spoke. To be honest, Angela was surprised how composed Fareeha still was. 

“Yeah. First things first, come.”

“WhatT T!”  Fareeha’s voice peaked as she slammed her hands on the table, holding on for dear life as Angela lightly bounced her toe against the hilt of the vibrator, sending mind-breaking pleasure with each movement. Fareeha’s mouth drifted open subconsciously as Angela pushed her to climax, the vibrator embedded tightly within Fareeha’s insides, massaging her inner walls as Angela jiggled it with her toe. Her fingers dug at the marble as she doubled-over, her legs spasming around Angela’s foot, her body constricting around the vibrator as she came. Fareeha was left panting, no longer dignified and sitting straight, but exhausted, her head resting on the table as saliva slowly pooled from her mouth. 

“Just like that~” Angela cooed as she finished the last of her coffee, giving the vibrator one last jostle before bringing her foot back, patiently waiting for Fareeha to recover. 

 

A few minutes later and Fareeha scraped up enough strength to stand, albit shakily, the buzz of the vibrator clear as day, alluding to one or more climaxes to be had on the way home. Angela gave a warm smile to the barista’s as they left, making sure to leave a gratuitous tip, as usual. The pair left, Angela’s arm tight around Fareeha’s waist, licking her lips for a brief moment as she considered dragging her battered wife into an alleyway. 

“There they go.” The bubbly barista sighed, cleaning Angela’s empty mug as the door closed. 

“Just like every other week.” The other barista shook his head lightly, the slightest bit irritated as he emptied the tip jar. “Have you noticed she never tips us below $50?” 

“How many times do you think her wife cums in a day? They have to be doing that at more places than ours, right?” She touched her nose ring as she set the cup in a tub by the sink, feeling like she had to sneeze. “Remember to wash that seat extra well.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” The man clicked his tongue as he sorted the cash. “So long as she keeps paying us, I’m as blind as that old regular.”


End file.
